While the wind chime clinks and the magpie
chatters and the mare nickers and the
doves swoon and the melting snow
tinkles and the passing cars purr
there’s a woman who listens
surprised at how what she hears
most of all is a stillness inside her
that seems to spill its quiet
all over the clamor of morning,
perhaps the way the shadow
of the mountain seems to spill
across the earth and changes nothing
and changes everything.